Waiting for Liberty
by Kye Above
Summary: (Snapped Canada) Alfred Jones was an ordinary man, even if he liked to think otherwise. Only, he might just be right. With an attack on his life, which turns out to not be the first, Alfred finds out just how extraordinary he is. He's the personification of America. Now, if only he could remember that.


America was far beyond any form of rational thought by the time he flipped over a table in his mad dash to get away from his aggressor. It had been going on too long for him to believe any longer that it was some joke. He was in danger; he could actually be killed, since the one chasing him was a fellow nation, and only another personification could kill one of their kind. He would have taken the time to be shocked or hurt that someone he had trusted and loved now wanted him dead, but doing so would only slow him down.

Axe at his side, the violet eyed nation dodged the table pushed into his path, effortlessly and with clear annoyance. He had known very well that the stupid country wouldn't go down without a fight, but it had been ages since they had started the now very one-sided fight. America had long since stopped fighting back, except for small attempts that always ended in failure. If he had been in a different state of mind, he would have found it disappointing that such a proud nation had fallen as America had. But because he had lost his mind, he found it amusing.

"America! Please don't run!" He called out, quite teasingly, to the fleeing country, not slowly his own steps. He smirked as America's running grew somehow faster, and he brought the axe closer, readying himself to strike once he was close enough. "Come on! Is the 'hero' afraid?" In a quick and not well thought out idea, the violet eyed nation threw that axe at his prey. Luckily for him, but not so much for America, the axe hit it's target, right in the back of his head.

America collapsed to the ground immediately, seemingly temporary paralyzed, his vision blackening and his mind going fuzzy. He barely registered his attacker walking up to him, a skip in each step, and picking up the axe. America was turned over right his vision was still a bit unclear, he could see who was standing over him. And while he was sure he had known before who it was, he honestly couldn't say he remembered his name. It had just disappeared from his memory. Confusion was mixed in with his fear.

"America..." The axe was raised above him, the one whose name he had forgotten smirked more, insanity that America knew didn't use to be there, clear. Even though he was sure he was about to be killed, part of him was thinking about how strange it was that he no longer knew who was standing over him. He realized he remembered less by the second, his mind gaining more static.

"Who am I?" He eventually whispered, when he found that his own identity had become a secret to him. Something flashed briefly in the other nation's violet eyes, his grip on the axe slipping noticeably. America lost consciousness before his attack regained his grip, shaking off the question as much as he could, before repositioning himself, to end the life of the biggest annoyance of his own. He brought down the axe and-

"Matthew, stop!"

* * *

Chapter 1

The sun climbed higher in the sky over the Saskatchewan town of North Battleford (1), and most of the residents rose with it. Summer was close to ending, so many were trying to make up for all the time they wasted, before the bone-chilling cold associated with Saskatchewan set it, during which it would be suicidal to go outside. But being used to the cold, the people had pushed away the knowledge of it being a death wish, and braved the icy air, as they like all people, needed to get to work or school.

Come winter time, Alfred F. Jones would not be one of those people. Unemployed and not very tolerant of the cold, he would stay inside during the winter as much as he could, living off of the weekly checks he received from a family member.

Having only moved to North Battleford, and Canada as a whole, three months before, Alfred still had much to learn. He was well aware that the Canadian winters were cold, as every American knew, but he would never know how cold it really was until the shock set it and his fingers almost froze off. But for now, he was content with the pleasant summer Saskatchewan got most years. He would have been able to enjoy it even more if he didn't sleep until unreasonable hours.

Currently, our hero was snoring away in one of four bedrooms in his much too large house; too big for just one person to be living in it. He'd forgotten to set his alarm clock that previous night, like he always forgot to. But it wasn't like he had any plans for the day. He'd already done all that he wanted to do that summer, and had thus been making things up as he went along. And sleeping didn't seem like a bad way to spend the day.

Alfred's practical coma was quite justified, since he had been kept up the nights before by internet browsing, and not nightmares like his mind was trying to tell him. He did not get nightmares, especially night terrors about insane blue-violet eyes and bloody axes. Because that would mean he was going crazy, and despite what his neighbours claimed, he was very much sane.

Then, with cruelty that later brought tears to his eyes, the door bell rang, causing him to open his tired eyes with minor interest. The door bell rang again, this time more insistent, and Alfred groaned, lifting his head off the pillow. After a few moments, and another ring of the bell, Alfred managed to get out of bed, and stumble out of the room and towards the front door.

When he pulled back heavy door, he was greeted with the sight of police officers standing on his steps. They most certainly weren't the mounties he had expected them to be when he'd first saw some months before, after there had been a second shooting, unconnected to the first one, within the short time he'd been living in North Battleford. Nothing in the small part of Canada where he resided was like he had expected it to be. But he liked it.

"Problem, officers?" He asked once he pushed the screen door open. Even in his clouded state of mind, he could tell the two officers were quite young. He would have thought that they wouldn't have put two rookies together. The blond one of the pair briefly flashed an ID, quick enough that Alfred was unable to catch his name.

"Sir, some kids swept through the neighbourhood last night. They slashed a few car tires along your street." The officer claimed, trying to sound as official as possible, but still coming off as too casual. Alfred paid no mind to this.

"Well, I really hope you catch them." Alfred yawned afterwards, and the officers exchanged glances, looking less professional by the minute

"We'd like to know if you...saw or heard anything suspicious before going to bed." The brunette of the pair said nervously. It was only then that Alfred thought something was wrong about the two officers. The police didn't get uneasy, at least during a simple door to do interrogation! Maybe they were just really recent recruits, but that still didn't justify it.

"I don't remember hearing anything last night. I've been asleep since forever. By the way, thanks for waking me up." The blond was about to speak against this, any professionalism to disappear, when there was a shout from behind them all.

"Hey you fuckers! Leave him alone. He doesn't know anything." Alfred looked past the two officers with a smile on his face, recognizing the voice and it's person of source. The officers also looked around to see who had spoken.

It was his neighbour, a classy dressed woman from New York that had moved in next door not long after Alfred had moved into his own house. Her middle finger was clearly raised, only thinly disguised by her pushing up her sunglasses. The officers seemed to have lost what remained of their composure at the sight of her. Alfred could understand why. She was from New York City after all. Not that _he _was bothered by her.

"I saw two punks last night. You remind me of them, actually." She said accusingly, a deep glare on her face. Even Alfred was smart enough to realize what was going on. They were trying to trick him!

"Uh...thank you. We'll look into that!" The brunette said, before grabbing his partner's hand and dragging him away in a run, much to the blond's protest. Alfred and the New Yorker, looked at each other briefly, before the woman started to complain.

"Damn brats. They were probably trying to get into your house so they could rob you." The lie was flawless, and even if it wasn't Alfred would never had suspected the truth.

"I probably could have handled them!" Alfred defended, before yawning again. "Hey, Henrietta! Do you want to come in for some coffee?" Henrietta frowned and shook her head.

"Coffee past noon? No thank you." Alfred looked a little surprised, not doubt because he hadn't realized the time. "I better get back to my car and finish unloading it. I think you should get yourself that coffee." She let a smirk fall onto her face as she said this.

"Well, okay. Talk to you later." He closed the screen door and shuffled to his kitchen. Henrietta stood at the edge of his driveway for a few moments, before taking out her cellphone and walking back to her own property. The call connected just as she reached her car.

"**Hello? Jet, is there a problem?" **Henrietta looked around to see if there was anyone close by before she replied, honestly concerned for the life of her 'annoying neighbour'.

"He found America. He's already sent Ontario and Manitoba to test the waters."

"**Fuck! I thought Alberta said that this wouldn't happen for a while longer." **Henrietta scowled, having not trusted the Province from the start. But he had done his best to hide America, even though it was in the land of the enemy.

"Virginia, I need you here. Now. "

"**Of course I'll be there. If his provinces are around, Canada can't be far behind. And we both know that when Canada gets to America, no one will be able to stop that mad man."**

* * *

1 – A real town. Chosen as the setting of this story for having some of the highest crime rates in Canada, since crime is relevant to the story. Google Maps is my friend for the layout of the town.


End file.
